


One Miserable Moment

by ConceptualHorizons



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 02:19:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15523926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConceptualHorizons/pseuds/ConceptualHorizons
Summary: What is one to do when a certain Dep-u-ty is on your mind? You walk into the fire.





	One Miserable Moment

**Author's Note:**

> My Dearest Reader,
> 
> My muse heard "Into the Fire" by Asking Alexandria, immediately pictured Jacob for the first half and John for the second.. and then she/he ran with it. Check out the song/lyrics if you are curious.
> 
> Ahhh Jacob.. this was my very first attempt to capture the man I have a deep respect for. I find him alluring. I don't know if I am quite happy with the results, but I definitely overanalyzed and probably overedited. Sometimes you just have to cut it loose and let it go. 
> 
> Again, no Beta, so all mistakes are mine alone. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Yours,  
> C. Horizons

Jacob Seed was coming damned close to a controlled panic. His chest was tightening, breathing becoming difficult, but he tamped that shit down. He pulled upon his formidable willpower and buried the rising tide behind shuttered eyes, a clenched jaw, and silence. Still, his internal conflict was a roiling ocean of endless waves, the undertow so powerful he had to fight to keep his head above water. Everything felt too intense, so all consuming that he was sure someone had to know he was on the brink of shattering. 

Sky blue eyes darted left to right in hyperarousal, alighting on every entry and exit point.

_ ‘Damn, focus Jacob! Deep breath, tense your muscles, hold.. release.’ _

He was intimately familiar with the feeling clawing for purchase along his spine and he was determined to squash it. Paranoia was toxic. It would spread like an infection, slowly becoming a seeping wound of vulnerability. And what was vulnerability but a weakness; a marked deficiency that would signal instability to others like a beacon amidst the dark?

A low, agitated growl escaped his constricted throat as he ran a shaky hand through his usually immaculate hair. Heavy, booted steps tread back and forth across the office overlooking Stone Ridge Chalet’s training grounds. The change in scenery from The Veteran’s Center had accomplished fuck all. Below, various yells and grunts erupted at random from his soldiers, but their victories fell on deaf ears.  

_ Clink...clink...clink... _

With each stride, Jacob’s dog tags bounced softly against his sternum, their familiar cadence the only constant as he paced the confines of his self imposed cage. He was a soldier, devoid of weakness, a pillar of strength and the weapon of Eden’s Gate. Distractions had no place in his life and there were to be no kinks in his armor. Someone had to remain logically focused amidst this chaos.

Abruptly he stopped his pacing, slamming both hands down upon a desk and barely resisting the urge to violently sweep everything to the floor. 

_ ‘The damned Deputy…’ _

Right now he felt like a huge hypocrite. Overhead, his voice blared repeatedly through the Chalet’s speakers: even, confident, and just so damned sure of every word spoken. He listened as his own words rolled over the compound expounding upon sacrifice and culling the herd... Hell, even a voicemail he left earlier was mocking him from the nearby phone. The little message light was blinking, its insistent beeping a taunting rhythm reminding him of his spoken assurances to the Chosen: trainees were not human. 

Jacob felt...Mendacious and impotent. His very pores wept self loathing. 

_ ‘How did one female amongst the faceless herd of inept stand out and call to me?’ _

Exactly two weeks ago he had had a lapse in his usually placid demeanor. A thrilling anger had taken control as he reached his capacity for patience with the Deputy’s antics. One too many of his Judges had been killed, one too many Chosen taken. It galled his sense of tactical training to have to grant some rebellious pup leniency at the behest of Joseph. Truth be told, Jacob often caught himself musing over whether this lone female was actually the harbinger of doom that Joseph “prophesized”, or if his family was simply handing over an undeserved amount of power all for the sake of some... delusion. 

Validity of “The Voice” aside, it was that momentary spark of anger which ignited the fires of his preoccupation with the whelp.

Sick of allowing this supposed soldier to walk about unchecked, Jacob had sent a small group of his people on the hunt. Intel managed to localize the search area to within a mile of her current location. “Know thy self, know thy enemy,” and Jacob always kept tabs on where the Deputy trekked. Hell, it was one of his top priorities. Thus, once given the order they captured their prize in under an hour, silencing her from a distance with a Bliss tipped arrow. Radioing in their success, Jacob was in turns exhilarated by the forthcoming confrontation and repulsed by the methods used. 

Faith’s little drug was a point of contention amongst the brothers at times. Both he and John found its use offensive, though perhaps for different reasons. Jacob had never asked. Still, the fact that his hunters used those damned arrows to keep the target alive and unaware galled his sense of sportsmanship. He hated that Bliss shit and found its use in combat underhanded and cowardly. He would even admit to feeling distaste at the fact that it was used in his conditioning trials, still, everything had its purpose. Sacrifice for the lives of the few.

  When her unconscious body was brought in, his soldiers knew precisely where she belonged. At the time he recalled noting how every moment seemed exaggerated, the darkness insulating sounds and softening harsh sights. The normally grisly cages were cluttered together in the open mountain air, moonlight softening their edges and dulling their filth. Wolves and trainees were scattered about in various stages of being broken and rebuilt, but they were silent and far removed..  Dead center lay the Deputy. 

Jacob stalked the perimeter, keeping to the shadows, eyes trained on that one particular cage. Curious and calculating he circled, knowing that from the moment she had been commanded to put handcuffs around Joseph’s wrists there was going to be a unique relationship between the two of them. She was Joseph’s little pet project and that left no question as to whether or not Jacob would perform his due diligence. He would. 

Still, it remained to be seen if he would become invested or if she was worthy.

Jacob’s eyes took in the flash of dark, matted hair as the lithe form stirred on the ground. Blue eyes popped open, clearing the Bliss haze with an abruptness he had rarely seen, the steadfast gaze analyzing her surroundings. The Deputy’s face was a blur of recognition, acceptance, and scrutiny as she stood unaided, clenching her jaw and holding a rigid countenance. There was no more than twenty feet between them when Jacob caught a whiff of crisp citrus, mint, and unique musk. His nostrils flared in mild confusion and a sudden surge of unwelcome admiration crept into his subconscious. There she stood, solid and resolute in the face of the unknown.. his eyes narrowed dangerously. A few silent strides later and he was surprised to find himself standing outside of the metal bars with no memory of having made a conscious decision to approach.

_ Brrring..brrring…. _

The ringing of a damned phone snatched him from his memory.

_ ‘I’m not too sure what I’m supposed to do with this.’ _

Blinking, he cursed under his breath and pushed up from where he had been leaning. If it had been that brief moment of admiration he could have easily ignored it, but the Deputy was proving a constant distraction. His deliberate silence since their first encounter  _ should _ be speaking volumes to the pup nipping at the heels of her better. Every interaction or lack there of was calculated to keep his hold over her, to make her doubt. He wanted to make her feel that she was beneath his notice, too weak to illicit consideration even if he truly knew her worth. He had known instinctively from their first meeting that she was anything but weak. Never had he glimpsed the particular strength radiating from that small form. She was a worthy opponent unquestioned. As such, his alpha instincts reared their head, struggling to break through. A growing part of him wanted to subjugate the possible threat and yet he was craving to assay her capabilities.

Oh, but to test that resolve, to see precisely how powerful her body and mind were... then, well, once she was thoroughly put through her paces, he  **_craved_ ** to enfold the Deputy into his pack. He wanted to lay claim to her in every base and physical way possible. To snarl, bite, and fuck his way into her acceptance and submission.

_ ‘How did I wind up… wanting her?’ _

Jacob’s top lip curved upward into a self deprecating snarl.

The desire triggered when he finally had to accept that she was skilled, smart, determined and not without reason. From there it.. Festered and grew until suddenly he was thinking about how the Deputy would feel against him, how she would taste, how he would make her beg for his touch as they fought one another for dominance. 

Damn, Jacob had even started to think of her as  _ his _ , had given her a nickname: his Little Hell. 

His vision swam again as he continued to pace, that night quickly unfurling behind his eyes. 

Darkness, starlight, and the crunch of gravel beneath his boots. At his approach the Deputy took a step forward instead of back, stance open and deceptively calm.  A surprised snort had escaped as he found calculating eyes intent upon his face. As insolent as ever, her lips parted and, maintaining eye contact, the whelp had the audacity to spit on his boots.

“Such spirit,” he mocked, shooting a hand out with studied quickness. He was close enough and the action so unexpected his hand easily locked around his target. Her warmth sank into his long fingers as they bunched into the front of that damnable shirt. From the bottom of his field of vision he caught a brief glimpse of what may have been tattoos near her collar bones before pulling her smaller frame flush against the bars.

Red hair had brushed against a pale forehead as Jacob leaned down, eye to eye. 

“I will cull that rebellion burning so hotly in you. It’s what I do; I thin the herd.. and you? You will beg for my praise before I am through.” Scarred hands traveled up to close around the slender throat, clasping tightly before harshly pushing the pup backwards. 

That was all it took, that brief moment of contact, and the feel of her skin and her warmth were seared into his hands and memory.

This entire affair was all well beyond any of his experiences. War he knew, death he was intimately familiar with, and violence common place. He was under no delusions about who and what he was. Jacob had done questionable things to help his brothers, to protect what he held dear, and it was all accomplished with little regret. Then there was Miller... 

Yet, to even entertain the idea of engaging the enemy on such an intimate field of battle, one which could leave all he held close in jeopardy, was beyond short sighted. It was ultimately an act of selfishness, seemingly rash, and with one too many unknowns. As a soldier, he was conditioned to never actively jeopardize a mission… as a man he was becoming too distracted, too weak.

Something  _ had _ to be done.

Disgusted and restless, Jacob stomped from the room and down the stairs. Men stood at attention and saluted as he passed, but he did nothing to acknowledge them. He had to take action in order to stem this tide of weakness and yearning. He would not be free of the Deputy’s hold until he confronted it.

_ ‘From the cage that I created to a Hell that Heaven made.’ _

This time he would catch his Little Hell himself, make it personal. There would be no Bliss tipped arrows, no altering any perceptions nor slowing of mental acuity. Meeting the enemy on a level playing field was a necessity. He was a man of action and damned if he didn’t have the power to do something to relieve his burdened thoughts. If that meant killing the Deputy to regain control, then the possibility would be considered. 

Sliding behind the wheel of an unmarked truck, Jacob acknowledged that he was willing to accept the consequences of his actions. 

“A man who procrastinates in his choosing will inevitably have his choice made for him by circumstance.” * 

He would not fall prey to inaction and circumstance. 

Picking up his modified handheld, he clicked through the various channels seeking the Resistance. It would not take him long to track down his prey and then? Then there would be a reckoning. 

“Wheaty to Dep over…”

His grip on the steering wheel tightened in anticipation as his lips quirked into a small smile.

‘ _ Honestly, I wouldn’t take back a moment. Not one miserable moment.’ _

He turned the key in the ignition.

“Hell can only escape my grasp for as long as I allow it. It’s time you came home Pup. ”

  
  


_ ____________________________________________________________________________ _

  
  
  


John fuckin’ Seed.

Oh, he was more than aware of what those outside of Eden’s Gate called him, truncated curse and all. Frankly, he found it amusing to be the source of local gossip and more than a bit flattering. Given the opportunity he would happily provide a pointer or two; you know, perhaps throwing in a mother after John. That  _ would _ round it out rather nicely, not that they would ask. 

John Motherfucking Seed. 

Now that,  _ that _ had presence.

Alas, very few had his flair for the dramatic and even less seemed to appreciate his loquaciousness. 

John sighed. Engaging conversations had become something of a luxury given his current situation. At best most of the population in this rural Montana valley stuck to their favored contractions and four letter words. “Ain’t” being a particular favorite. It had seemed as if it was just going to be one more burden he would carry as a logophile until…

Well, until the Deputy.

His dark brow arched upward in silently amused appreciation. Who knew that the prophesied lamb would become someone who could get under his skin in such a delightfully painful way? True, their little... games were initially fueled by wrath, but,  _ something _ had changed. 

Lowering himself onto his black leather couch, John sank back, stretching his legs out before him. Outside, the distant murmur of the ever-devoted created a comforting lull as they patrolled his ranch in vigilant shifts. The followers of Eden’s Gate were passionate about the project, eager to make themselves useful to the cause, and John found it refreshing to have such exuberance surrounding him. Their armed presence allowed him a moment of respite, but his guard was never down. John was many things, but stupid could not be counted among them.

Arms folded loosely over his stomach, John delved into his recent favorite indulgence: replaying the moments he had carefully orchestrated with his darling Affirmation. Somehow she had become his darkness, his wrath given form, and it thrilled him. Dark head dropping back to rest upon the supple leather, fevered eyes drifted closed in order to become completely submerged in their very first physical meeting.

When the Deputy was first brought before him, darkish hair had been plastered to the sides of a pale neck, eyes shone too brightly in the moonlight… she was striking. Disoriented and seething, jaw clenched in response to the frigid mountain water, a small but capable form was lead from the depths of the river. John himself was rarely present for mass baptisms, but this one was special. He knew  _ she _ was there, the one responsible for all the chaos and destruction in his region. 

Gently closing the Book of Joseph, he met and mirrored her surprisingly intense gaze and that was all it took. As she was stopped before him his internal control snapped. 

“Not this one,” he commanded, arm held out to halt any movement towards the van.

This was the one, this little slip of a thing, who had the audacity to oppose him. She sought to destroy all that he worked to build with his brothers. And for what? To be a hero? 

He passed the book off to his faithful as he studied this “Rook”. She was setting the project back, costing lives, and wasting precious resources all in the name of ignorance! 

“This one’s not clean.”

Then the wrath he tried to keep buried and on a short leash, snapped, raging within. He lunged quickly, brow drawn down over cold eyes, and grabbed her by the biceps forcing her once more beneath the cold water. She fought the tide, eyes staring up at his face from beneath a wavering barrier. He had struggled to keep her submerged, little grunts of effort escaping him before snatching her back from the depths. Even when dosed with Bliss, there was a coiled strength in the muscles being bruised beneath his merciless grip. 

Now HE was the one in control.. And this time it would be known who had the power and exactly who held a life in their hands..

“Aahhh..tsk, tsk, tsk. Shhh..” he crooned viciously.

The Deputy managed a deep breath to brace herself before his wrath took control once again and he lost himself in its embrace...but it was not to be.

“Do you mock the Cleansing John?”

His heart stopped and he froze as Joseph’s calm voice carried a deep warning. Shame and fear coursed through him...

“Repeat....imeter…cl... over..”

The sound startled John from his reverie. Somehow he had managed to completely forget the handheld clipped to his side. Absently he turned the dial through various channels, listening in for any chatter in the valley. Sometimes he would come across inane conversations discussing specific fishing spot or perhaps even times to meet for trysts. It was all very insipid. Sitting up to rest his elbows on his knees, John considered the bit of black plastic he now cradled. How easy it would be to reach out, to cave to the gnawing desire for contact with her.  He enjoyed how his Affirmation would bandy about words and taunts with such fine precision, both of them always pushing, always pulling… walking a fine edge. With each interaction his wrath slowly gave way to amusement.

After her baptism he bridged the gap, calling out to her over the radio. He remembered how clear the night sky had been as he stood on his balcony overlooking the mountains. It had taken him a while to locate what he hoped would be a mutual channel, one both obscure and strong enough to carry through the valley.

“Dep-u-ty… do I have your attention?” 

He waited briefly, heartbeat tripping erratically, until he heard a faint click from the other end. That was all the confirmation he needed. He definitely had her attention.

_ ‘On with the show.’ _

“Pastor Jerome is selfish and misguided and if he were a true man of God his people wouldn’t have left him in the first place.” The words which spilled from his lips meant nothing, but they were a simple tool used to ferret out any weak points in that shining white armor of hers. No reaction, no click.. Nothing. Alright, time to try another tactic.

“You, Deputy,  _ will _ still confess your sins…”

Then, as if by magic, he heard her speak for the very first time. Her soft, liquid voice rushed through him, embedding itself into every empty space. John would never be quite sure how she managed to sound both intensely cynical and ethereal all in the same breath. The effect was alarmingly disorienting.

“That is very self-serving, isn’t it? Confessions should be voluntary otherwise it’s simply appeasement or in your case, a rejoinder to torture. What is this? The Spanish Inquisition?”

John chuckled darkly, “Rather dramatic aren’t we dear?”

“Not from what I have heard. I wonder, why are you so intent on my confession when you yourself are guilty of sinning? I have personally bared witness to your wrath...”

“Mmmmm.. Yes, well… I’ve come to terms with the fact I’ll probably never change, but that’s just fine. I do tend to find solace in the pain….” he drew a deep breath, startling himself with that half admission. 

‘ _ Fuck.’ _

“But, this isn’t about  _ me _ Dep-u-ty. Oh no, this is all for you. Your sins will be scoured. It is the will of the Father.”

_ Click. _

The silence began as seconds, then grew into minutes… and John almost threw the offensive handheld in frustration. What possessed him to utter that drivel? That momentary slip, exposing the lesser of his inner demons, to his antagonist was unwise. That was part of his own personal Hell. It haunted him, the fear that he may never change no matter how hard he cut, how much he bled, or how often he helped others to atone. 

_ Beep. _

“Shall we add lying to your ever growing list of transgressions? You carry a darkness in you, brandishing it like a weapon, wearing it like armor, and using it to excise personal demons.”

He didn’t want to hear another word. 

“I don’t mind the darkness it’s easy on my eyes,” he spat sarcastically.

Silence again… and then a very calm, punctuated statement, “Yet you are praying for something to make you feel alive.”

John opened his mouth to release the scathing retort building behind his lips, but she cut him off.

“I _see_ **you** John.”

The hair at the base of his skull stood on end, arms breaking out in goosebumps. His name in her voice was… sapid, almost a physical experience. 

And then it was over. She was gone and he stood dumbfounded. Her infliction on those words cut through any lies they would tell one another. She felt, for whatever reason, that she knew who he was.

That night he had snarled in fury and gave into the urge to launch the damnable radio as far as he could. It flung out into the night landing on the edge of the cliff with a clatter.

Now he blinked, eyes once again focusing on his replacement two way. Ever since that night, those four words constantly assailed him. How many times had he dissected every single aspect of  “I _see_ **you** John.”, only to reassemble the declaration and do it all over again?

He kept seeing her face as he remembered it the night of the baptism. Chocolate hair plastered to a slender neck, clothes clinging and soaked, that burning gaze taking in every single movement even in her dazed state.. Their eyes had met and held, his full of rage, hers accepting and… maybe even knowing? 

“FUCK!”

John pushed himself up from the couch and stood stiffly, caught between indecision and agitation. He hated the smugness that her simple accusation carried. No, there was no way she had any clue about who he was nor any insight into the darkness he carried. She  _ couldn’t. _

_ ‘Could she?’ _

Instantly the temptation was there. So she claimed to  _ see _ him? Well, he could do no less than show her. After all, who was he to refuse enlightenment to those who sought truth?

A delighted smirk tugged at his lips, his eyes crinkling in amusement as a vague plan began to take shape.

_ ‘You know, I wouldn't take back a moment...not one miserable moment.’ _

Bringing the radio to his lips John took a deep, steadying breath.

“Deputy.. You’ve had your fun, but all sinners must confess.”

He paused, gifting her the chance to listen closely.

Perhaps the truth of it all lay buried somewhere between wanting to play at subjugating her spirit and completely liberating it from its bindings. There was a cynical innocence about her, an ingrained sense of honor and justice, misplaced though it was. His Little Affirmation was stunningly paradoxical and he wanted to possess  _ everything _ . 

Sauntering out the front door of the ranch, John could not help the thrill of excitement racing up his spine. Tattooed fingers clenched around the radio wanting to punctuate every word. His lips brushed the black plastic speaker intimately as he whispered a promise to the one person he would allow to bear witness to who he truly was:

“I’ll see you soon.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> * Quote by the Good Doctor, Hunter S. Thompson.


End file.
